


Lonely Anxiety

by jacofreak123a



Category: Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-01-06
Updated: 2017-01-06
Packaged: 2018-09-15 03:49:55
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Major Character Death, Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,257
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9217364
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/jacofreak123a/pseuds/jacofreak123a
Summary: Stiles struggle to sift through his emotions as his past and present collide.





	

**Author's Note:**

> THIS DOES NOT HAVE A HAPPY ENDING, SO IF YOU WANT A HAPPY ENDING DON'T READ THIS.
> 
> This is adapted from an earlier piece I did.

-August 27th, 2015-  
Stiles stepped out into the hot Mojave sun, black Louis Vuitton’s clattering with each step, white pants and black fishnet jersey complementing, and red and black sunglasses covering the windows to his soul. The wall of people seemingly parted ways for him to pass. Everyone knew Stiles was all business.  
He continued past the all too familiar hotels, half of which he partly owned. At 23, Stiles was one of the most successful entrepreneurs of the 21st century. He was the leading man in the industry of clubs, particularly strip clubs.  
Stiles had left Beacon Hills for a selective spot in the University of Southern California School of Journalism. He knew that he could never reach his full potential in such a conservative state. After his first year of college, Stiles realized that the student loans were not going to pay themselves. After several failed attempts at finding work, Stiles had wound up in Las Vegas, working part time at a strip club.  
The Starr was a low-key backdoor gay strip club. Stiles had a hard time fitting in at first, but soon he was able to stand out amongst the other strippers, and was promoted to manager by his second semester of sophomore year.  
The Starr was a small part of the vast Vegas empire created by Eli Longfield. Eli had been one of the original tycoons of Vegas back when the small city started to expand, and had lived there ever since, continuing to run his successful empire with an iron fist.  
Stiles had only had a couple encounters with Eli, but Eli had been impressed with both. He promoted Stiles to regional manager of a handful of nightclubs and strip clubs.  
By the time Stiles was in his senior year of college, Eli had entrusted him with more than half of his empire. Eli was aging, and had long ago realized that he would need someone to carry on his legacy and to continue the empire he had built. The only person Eli had found was Stiles, and he knew that it was meant to be.  
After Eli’s retirement, Stiles had been left with power at his fingertips. Through a couple risky investments and well thought out property trades, Stiles had amassed a wealth of nearly $15 million, and ran some of the most successful bars and strip clubs in the nation.  
Stiles continued walking down Las Vegas Boulevard; the sidewalk was his own personal runway. People knew he was upper class by the lavish clothes he wore, but no one even dared to look him in the eye. Stiles had a look about him that was intimidating to all, and that was the way he liked it.  
Stiles arrived at one of his newer clubs, Club 418, and pushed open the doors, allowing the cool air to waft over him.  
“Alright,” Stiles announced, the entire staff freezing in their place. “As you all know, we have a very important guest coming tonight. Prime Minister of Canada, Justin Trudeau, will be here in a couple of hours, so we have to make this place flawless.”  
Stiles took off his sunglasses, and leveled a glare at his employees that got them moving again.  
The Prime Minister was a personal friend of Eli’s, and Stiles did not want to lose such an important client.  
After five hours of preparation, Club 418 opened its doors to Justin Trudeau and his chief executives. Stiles greeted him at the door.  
“Welcome, Prime Minister,” Stiles said. “I hope you had a safe flight.”  
“Yes,” Justin replied. “And I am happy to be back in Vegas.”  
“Good to hear,” Stiles smiled. “Make yourself and your staff at home.”  
Stiles parted ways with Justin, and headed behind the DJ’s counter.  
“Make sure you keep the light scheme red and white,” Stiles whispered to the DJ.  
“You’ve got it, boss,” the DJ said, as he dimmed the other colors and turned the red and white light up.  
The night went better than expected. The Canadians had a good time on the dance floor, there were no fires in the kitchen, and Stiles had only had a few minor panic attacks.   
“Thank you for your hospitality, Stiles,” Justin said as he was leaving the building. “I look forward to doing business with you again.”  
“Yes, thank you Prime Minister,” Stiles replied. “And I must say it’s such an honor to-”  
Just then, Stiles' phone vibrated. “Excuse me, Prime Minister, but I have to take this. Have a good night.”  
“You too.”  
Stiles walked to the back entrance of the building and went outside into the dimly lit parking lot. He pulled out his rose gold iphone. The screen read, “Derek <3”..  
“Yes?” Stiles snapped into the phone in a pissed off tone.  
“Well it’s nice to finally hear from you, too,” Derek replied.   
Derek had been Stiles' boyfriend of almost three years. They had met at USC on a blind date that Stiles had been reluctant to go on. The two had bonded quickly, but with all of the work Stiles had been doing lately, they hardly ever saw each other, especially since Derek lived four hours away in Orange, California, working as an engineer for a new technology company.  
“What do you want?” Stiles said, rolling his eyes. “I was talking with the Prime Minister of Canada when you called.”  
Stiles heard Derek sigh. “I just wanted to know if we could get together this weekend. Afterall, it is our three year anniversary.”  
Stiles bit his lip, fighting back the words “I totally forgot.” Instead, he said “Of course! Where do you want to go? Pick anywhere you like, and I would be happy to accompany you.”  
Derek laughed. “You do know most people do not fly all around the world for just a date.”  
Stiles sighed. “Yeah, I forgot.”  
“And that’s why I love you,” Derek responded.  
There was a long pause between them, both unsure of what to say next.  
“How about you come back home to LA for the weekend? This apartment for two has only had an occupancy of one for the past few months.”  
Guilt and regret hit Stiles like a wall. “Sounds like a plan,” Stiles said a fake smile stretching across his lips.  
“Perfect,” Derek replied. “And one more thing. No lavish outfits. I want this to be just a normal weekend for us.”  
“Fine,” Stiles mumbled reluctantly. “Goodbye.”  
“I love you,” Derek said.  
“I love you, too.” Stiles ended the call.  
~  
Stiles arrived back to his room in the Cosmopolitan around 3:00 am, collapsing onto the bed that was now more familiar than his own back in Orange. When he next opened his eyes, it was 11:00 am.  
Stiles pulled himself out of bed and trudged into the bathroom. Peeling off the clothes from the night before, he stared at the familiar stranger in the mirror. The scar right below his navel brought a chill down his spine as he blocked out the memories from years ago. His tan skin hid it well, but the scar still seemed fresh and Stiles doubted he would ever get used to it.  
Stiles stepped into the shower, and let the warm water comb through his hair and cascade down his back. He liked to keep clean, and his showers could last anywhere from twenty minutes to an hour. He hated the idea of being dirty.  
Stiles eventually finished his shower, drying off and putting on a simpler outfit: a white cotton t-shirt, light jean shorts, and a pair of cherry red sneakers.  
The Tuesday afternoon light hit Stiles as he strode out of the Cosmopolitan a little past noon. Stiles had a light load of work on Tuesday; he worked the polls at The Starr. Stiles wanted to stay true to his roots, and he found it humbling to work where he first started.  
As he entered The Starr, Stiles found himself alone. He came to The Starr a couple hours before his staff did, mostly to get some peace and quiet from his usual busy schedule.  
After a few hours, his staff came into work, and he managed their jobs like always. At 7:05, the club opened it’s doors to its awaiting patrons.  
In the few years that Stiless had been working at The Starr, it had gone from a low end off the strip location, to a high class strip club with a line out the door. The allure of a mysterious boy from up North brought in quite the crowd.  
“Good evening, everyone,” Stiles announced over the microphone, walking on stage. The crowd cheered. “I hope that y’all are ready to have a good time.”  
Stiles' other dancers came on stage. While the dancers wore white fishnet costumes, Stiles wore black short-shorts and a black snapback.  
He and the dancers went through their routine, expertly navigating around the stage. Then, each dancer, including Stiles, went out into the audience to give some lucky patrons lap dances.  
Stiles got to work, not even bothering to make eye contact with the man underneath him. As he was just getting into the dance, Stiles felt a hand grab his ass. He immediately turned around and slapped the man.  
“What the hell is wrong with you?” Stiles exclaimed. “Get the hell out of my club, now.”  
Stiles walked into the back room, not even bothering to see if the man had left. He immediately went to the hand sanitizer, using it to wipe away the feelings he had felt just moments ago. Tears fell down his face.  
~  
Stiles was embraced by Derek that Saturday morning outside the terminal of Orange County Airport.  
“I missed you so much,” Derek whispered.  
“I missed you a lot, too,” Stiles mumbled back, nose tucked into Derek's shoulder. “It’s been too long.”  
Derek grabbed Stiles' bag and the two climbed into Derek's Nissan Versa. They sped off on the 55 freeway, stopping for In-n-Out Burger on their way to the apartment.  
“How I’ve missed our home,” Stiles sighed while walking in the door, coke still in hand.  
Derek smiled. “You do know that you can live here permanently.”  
“I know, I know,” Stiles said, scrunching his nose. “But I have a lot of work to do, and the bills do have to get paid.”  
“Maybe when my engineering career takes off, that won’t be an issue anymore,” Derek grinned, moving in closer.  
“We’ll see,” Stiles said, leaning in to Derek and giving him a kiss. “We’ll have to wait and see.”  
~  
The two went out for dinner that night to the Anaheim Packing House, an eclectic gathering of high end mini-restaurants in the heart of a former industrial district in Anaheim.  
Derek sat down to a meal of a variety of Indian food, while Stiles had a modest poke bowl. The live quartet added to the millennial ambience.  
“So as I was saying,” Derek said, continuing his story between bites of food. “Bernie Sanders is our only logical choice for president. I mean, if you think about it, all of the other candidates are idiots. They are all for fracking, corporate agendas, and allowing personal interests to interfere with the good of the people, and-”  
Stiles loved when Derek got fired up about politics. The tips of his ears would turn red, and a vein in his forehead would protrude. Stiles smiled and nodded along.  
“-but Bernie Sanders, oh man how he is great. Did you hear that he is coming to Orange next week? I mean, the one and only Bernie Sanders is coming to our little town of Orange. How neat is that?” Derek asked.  
“The neatest,” Stiles grinned, bored with the topic but loving Derek's enthusiasm.  
Derek noted the slight disinterest in Stiles' voice. “Anyways, how’s work been going? Did anything exciting other than meeting the Prime Minister happen?”  
“Well, there was this one thing, but it’s not important,” Stiles answered.  
“I’m sure it’s important. Tell me.”  
Stiles shakily exhaled. “Well, I was giving a lapdance, and a guy grabbed my ass. I mean, it wasn’t a big deal.”   
Derek grew visibly distressed. “How did security handle him?”  
“Well, I didn’t have them do anything.”  
Derek sighed. “Stiles, you can’t let people treat you like that.”  
“It wasn’t a big deal,” Stiles said, putting a hand on his shoulder. “I’m alright.”  
“It just worries me a lot, you, out there all alone in Vegas. I mean, what if this guy had stayed after and slipped a roofie into your water bottle, or tried to take your clothes off?”  
Stiles rolled his eyes. “Well, my clothes were already pretty much off.”  
“I’m serious, Stiles. You keep forgetting that you are only twenty-three years old.”  
“I can handle myself!” Stiles insisted. Stiles bit his lip as the silence grew between them. “I’m sorry, Derek. I’ll try to be more careful.”  
“Thank you,” Derek said. “I hope you know that I am just looking out for your safety.”  
Stiles smiled. “And that’s why you’re my favorite.”  
~  
The next few days were uneventful, and while Stiles was bored with the monotony, he enjoyed having a few days to feel like a normal person every now and then.  
On Monday night, the day before Stiles was scheduled to fly back to Las Vegas, Derek took him to Laguna Beach for a walk to see the sunset together.  
“You know,” Derek began. “Bernie Sanders is really gonna do some great things for this country. Like, just think about it! We are going to have our social security system fixed, and our children will be able to-”  
Stiles smiled as Derek continued his tangent. The setting sun created a halo around the head that Stiles was all too fond of. He enjoyed looking at his boyfriend; it was a nice refresher from his daily life.  
“-and he is planning on expanding LGBT rights, did you know that? Like think about it. We will be able to get married without any problems from any state.”  
Stiles stopped. “What? Who said anything about marriage.”  
Stiles gave a nervous grin, then got down on one knee and pulled out a ring from his back pocket.  
“Stiles Stilinski,” he began. “You are truly the love of my life, and I honestly don’t know what I would do without you. Would you marry me?”  
~  
“I honestly don’t understand why that is an issue between you and me being together,” Derek almost shouted as the two entered their apartment.  
“It’s because I don’t trust anyone,” Stiles cried out.  
“But you know me. God, why won’t you just give it a rest?”  
“Derek, he stabbed me,” Stiles stuttered.  
“That was six years ago, a whole world away.”  
“And it doesn’t matter. I am not in the right mind to marry someone.”  
“And you can’t have sex with them either,” Derek sneered.  
“Please don’t bring this up,” Stiles said, tears in his eyes.  
“What? The fact that we’ve been dating for a hell of a long time, and not once have you had sex with me. I mean, I’m all for respecting consent, but your reasons are irrational.”  
Stiles was shaking.  
“Do you have anything to say to me?” Derek said angrily.  
Stiles swallowed.  
“I’m gonna prove you wrong.”  
With that, Stiles ran out of the apartment and called for a cab.  
~  
Stiles walked into the Starr on Tuesday night, ignoring the thoughts of what was soon to come. His general chores went by in a blur, because he had one focus in mind.  
“Are y’all ready to have a good time?” Stiles called out to the crowd that evening. The crowd roared in anticipation.  
Stiles strode off the stage to begin his usual routine. This day he picked a particularly older, less refined man from the crowd.  
After about a minute and a half, Stiles leaned into the man to bite his neck, and before he knew what he was doing, Stiles was leading the man to the back room, closing the door behind him.  
~  
-March 15th, 2016-  
Stiles looked up from the cursed paper he was reading to the stranger in the mirror before him. An emaciated image with lost eyes stared back at him. No emotion showed on that face.   
“Positive,” the paper had stated .  
As much as Stiles had used to try to keep himself clean, he had not done so good of a job that night back in Vegas.  
Stiles let the reality of his shortened life hit him like a brick wall. He fell to the ground, dry sobs wracking his body. Stiles refused to shed a tear for this. This was his own fault. He had no one to blame but himself. Sure, the man could have said something, but Stiles had committed the act out of spite.  
In that moment, Stiles thought about Derek. The two had never officially broken up, but Stiles had prevented Derek from ever contacting him again by blocking his phone number on that flight back to Las Vegas.  
Stiles froze as that memory hit him. He immediately grabbed his phone, undid a setting he had created months ago, and waited.  
“I’m sorry.” - September 4th  
“Do you want to talk?” -September 6th  
“I know you need space, but I am worried about you.” -September 10th  
“I really do hope that everything is alright.” -September 10th  
“I will always love you.” -September 21st  
“I know that this is a long shot, but I haven’t stopped thinking about you. Sure, I tried to block the memories, but after you suddenly stopped appearing in the media, I got scared for what could have happened to you. I just want you to know that I will always have a place in my heart for you, and if you ever read this, I just want you to take one thing away from this message: I love you.” -February 3rd  
Tear drops fell onto the screen. Stiles looked up once again at the man in the mirror before him, and for the first time in a long while, he saw that man smile. Stiles took a deep breath in, and resolved to make the most of the rest of his life. He packed his thing into a small bag, and walked out of the door into the city.  
Stiles texted as he walked.  
“I’m coming home,” he typed. “I will see you soon. I have missed you.”  
~  
The black of Stiles' Louis Vuitton sneakers stood out against the tile floor of Derek's apartment building’s hallway. Stepping out of the elevator, Stiles rounded the corner, timidly walking towards the all too familiar apartment door.  
There was a sound at the door, and before Stiles was even halfway down the hallway, Derek stepped out.  
Stiles froze. Another man their age followed behind him, holding Derek's hand.  
Stiles couldn’t seem to process all of the emotions he was feeling. He let out a high pitched shriek, and turned around.  
“Stiles?” Derek said, realizing who was rushing away from him. “Stiles, come back!”  
Stiles ran down the staircase, not wanting a confrontation while he waited for the elevator. Footsteps trailed behind him, but Stiles stepped outside just before Derek could reach him.  
Stiles ran toward the street, then stopped just at the edge of the sidewalk. Tears drops shined up at him from the laces of his shoes.  
“Stiles, what are you doing?”  
Stiles looked out into the street.  
“Stiles!” The footsteps were a couple seconds away from him.  
The black Louis Vuittons stepped out into oncoming traffic.


End file.
